Looking Glass
by trenadie
Summary: AU. Joanna Harvelle lives, but Ellen took the hell hound hit for her. Been hunting with the brothers off and on ever since. In between S.7 and S.8, Sam and Dean are MIA, Bobby is dead, and Hunters need to step up their game. Kevin is alone and unprotected, so Jo steps up to the challenge.
1. Blythewood, South Carolina

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters or original storyline to Supernatural, this is simply my geeky 'what if?'.

**Note:** Please give me feedback if you like or dislike it! Lack of feedback=lack of motivation to publish.

* * *

**Blythewood, South Carolina**

"Another." she slammed the shortened glass on the wood, it's bottom faced to the ceiling. A ring of whisky residue pooled against the polished surface as the bar tender swiped the glass away, pulling a clean one out, smearing the ring.

"Best slow down there girl," he condescended, filling the glass to the appropriate mark, "there's some boys here that will be on you right quick once they see how many you take."

Snatching the shot off the counter, she stared into it's honey color while she replied, "When they do, they'll turn right around and leave me alone."

Her hand brought the glass up to her lips, and with a flick of the wrist the honey flew down her throat with a burn.

He chuckled, wiping the bar down, "Why's that?"

She circled the glass in her hand, still looking down into it's now clear bottom.

"Do you ever wonder what color glass is?"

The bar tender paused to stare at her questioningly, "What'd you say now?"

"Glass," She repeated, her eyes trailing up to meet his, "what's it's color?"

He raised his eye brows, "It don't have no color darling, it's just glass."

She snorted, "Everything has a color."

"And we've arrived at too many." he commented.

"Nah, we haven't. This is a question worth asking, sir." she slurred.

"How so?"

Her dark amber eyes gazed focused onto his, "Color is how we subconsciously get the know how on what kind of energy something or someone has."

"Uh-huh" he leaned against the counter, sighing tiredly.

"Like this wood;" She tapped the glass against it, "brown. Stable, reliable; brown. You know that you can place things on it, and it'll stay there."

He clicked his tongue in his mouth, "What if it were red?"

She screwed up her face in confusion, "Like rosewood? That's still a brown, muddled with another color maybe but brown all the same."

"No, just red." he took the empty glass away from in front of her.

"Have you ever seen a red bar?" she asked rather expressively.

"Can't tell you I have darlin'." he chuckled.

"Exactly. 'Cause red is alarming, some people don't know how to react to it. When you see red you know there is danger, the good or bad kind." She chuckled and beat her flat palms against the table in a rhythm, "Another."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "No way."

She snorted again, staring him with a 'don't tell me what to do' glance.

"So tell me about some other colors," He started with a scratch of his balding grey head, "tell me about...blue."

"Blue is unpredictable, but also guiding. Calm one minute then crazy the next, but only trying to help you. I'll have another please." She twined a blonde curl to her index and middle fingers, running them in turn over her piece of hair.

"What about green?" he sighed, hoping to distract her from the desire of whiskey.

Her eyes smoldered, fixing on the grain of the bar.

He waited for her answer, thinking maybe she has just checked out for the night. Patience was a virtue mastered in his occupation.

"Darlin, you alright?" he prompted while thinking about calling her a cab.

"Green protects." She quickly answered, surprising him with her sudden lucidity. "Green reminds that there is always survival, no matter how black things get around you."

He nodded his head with relief that she was still with him, "So kinda like brown? It's a good color, steady."

Her eyes snapped up to his, a intensity behind them, "You would think wouldn't you? When you see those two colors on a person, you would think they reflect it. It's supposed to be that way, it's supposed to be simple, but what ever is simple in my life? Guess the color of the soul does not match the color of the clothes and I shouldn't think to expect it!"

Her voice started to rise, and his eye brows did the same, knowing that he had lost her again to the drunk mind.

"No matter how many times the black takes 'em, they returned, ready to fight the fight. And I-when they...gone, at least I had those colors, I always at least _knew_. I relied on him to return from hell, home or heaven. But hey-" she made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, "fourth time's a charm, right? Maybe the black finally got what it wanted."

There was a pause as he let her collect herself, breathing heavily now and blinking too often.

Bitting his lip, he decided to let that unintelligible rant slide, he had too much experience in asking a drunk mind what they meant or what had happened. Usually ended in a call to the men in blue.

"I think the expression is 'third time's a charm'."

Looking up at him, her face wore a stunned expression as if she forgot he was there. Which was likely, he thought.

Then she started cracking up, which made him backtrack a bit.

Her laughter filled the quiet bar, echoing and intensifying. He laughed quietly with her despite himself, shaking his head.

"I think you're right." She smiled widely when she calmed down, water welling in her eyes, "I've had too much."

He nodded, thankful for her awareness.

She slid off the stool, a short drop to the floor. She grabbed her jacket off the hook hanging just below the counter and reached inside, pulling out a money clip.

Depositing a bill on the bar she smiled at him again, "Keep the change, please."

"You got a ride home or someone you trust to walk ya darlin'?" He asked before she could turn away.

Slipping into her grey jacket, she smirked, "I'm walkin' and I trust myself."

She turned and headed to the doors, getting curious looks from the regulars stationed around the bar.

"You take care of yourself, Joanna." He called to her.

"I try to."

* * *

"Kevin-" she knocked over something as she came in, after flicking the light switch with no avail.

"Kevin the lights are all screwy."

"Jo?"

"Hey, whats up with-"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what's wrong." his tone of voice immediately sobered her mind. Her eyes adjusted and she saw him, standing a few paces in front of her, on the other side of the bed.

Beside him, another figure, it's hand around Kevin's neck.

Staying silent, she drew the long knife from inside her jacket and leveled it to her leg.

"You gonna talk, or are we playin' the quiet game and pretend you're not here?" She boisterously called out into the room.

A snigger caught her ear from her right, "Someone has enjoyed the drink tonight." a deep voice countered.

"Well it's a good night for it." She turned slightly in that direction, keeping Kevin and his unknown captor in sight.

"Who's the condescending dick I might have he pleasure to speak to?"

"It doesn't matter really." he replied with a chuckle, "if I say my name you won't know it, so it'll speak more to you to tell you that Crowley assigned me to find you."

At his name she stiffened, gripping the handle of the blade tighter. So it was demons she was dealing with. Lucky she had it then.

"I didn't know I was so important. Tell Crowley I'm so flattered." her voice acted.

He finally stepped into her view, out from the motel bathroom. He looked normal; nothing but ordinary; dark smoothed hair, jeans, coat, and black eyes. Completely unfamiliar; no guilt from stabbing included.

"Don't be." He retorted, "You were nothing special-that is until we noticed the prophet of the Lord hiding out-" his hand formed a gun, pointing at her, with another step forward, "with you." the 'gun' shot directly at her face.

Too close too fast, her body was still catching on to the sober of her brain. Time to stall was what she needed.

He continued, an arm's length away, "We were just keeping tabs on Dean's bitch-"

Jo snorted, "I only wish to be his bitch."

"Wish-_ed_." He cut in aggressively, taking another step toward her, "You forgot the past tense there."

"Careful." her voice dropped a tone, "I've been nice so far, but way you've been talking seems you want a fight."

He kept his eyes locked to hers, a smile stretched wide.

"It won't be much of one. Besides, you're no Winchester, are you?"

Her mind blurred, she saw nothing but his thin lips give way to those grotesquely yellowed squares of the body he was riding. Maybe a smoker.

"Nope. None of those 'round here," she snapped back into it, pushing that anger to the back of her mind, "but hey you gotchaself lucky, cause heeeere's a Harvelle!" She announced herself playfully.

The demon only showed more of those clouded yellows, "Those don't seem to stick around either, do they?"

"Alright pal, mind if we skip getting under my skin and get to business?"

"See I would, but I actually had the pleasure of meeting your father, and your mother for that matter- down unda." He flicked his fingers to the ground with attitude.

Jo said nothing, but clenched her jaw and glared.

"See, I met them on the special occasion of their reunion; Bill had given up being on the rack recently, and Ellen well, she was freshly delivered especially for him."

Teeth ground in her mouth, lips flattened, her fist swung.

She hit his flesh, he hit the ground.

Her body stumbled forward into the punch, still disoriented; the room spun. Her brain recognized that she was going to fall over too, until someone caught her shoulders and threw her backward.

Back slammed against the wall, she then gathered that this was the other demon, now punching her in the stomach. She sent a sloppy elbow to their face, which he/she caught, and twisted the arm painfully. A scream sounded from her own throat.

Suddenly remembering the blade she had been keeping a death grip on, she swung it around quickly and sliced their face.

Blood spilled from the gash and the demon let go of her with a yelp and growl.

"This is killing me," Jo panted, blade held defensively between them, "are you a guy or a girl?"

The demon only snarled in reply.

Behind them, Jo saw the other demon crack Kevin's face against the nightstand, effectively turning the kid's lights out as his body crumpled to the floor.

He turned, joining his companion with a smile on his face, focused now on Jo.

_One at a time_, she thought to herself, even as the room wobbled, taking a calming breath. Sliding her hand back on her belt to her Dad's sheathed nine inch bowie knife for her own backup as they formed.

Before she could remark that three was a party, they charged her.

He got hit first, Jo grabbed any part of him and threw it against the wall, acting quickly she gave her Dad's knife a temporary sheath in the demon's arm through bone, pinning him there with a screech.

Jo whirled around but was too slow to block the punch to her face from he/she. Her inebriated body reacted entirely and crashed to the floor.

The demon was on her immediately, but she flipped with the cursed knife; blade upward. They stopped just before impact, but Jo grabbed the back of their head, and thrust the blade upward, through the underside of the jaw. Blood pored on her chest and throat, hefty and hot.

As the soul of the demon and human flickered inside of the body, Jo smirked. "I guess I'll never know."

_One demon d_-

Her own thought was interrupted by a searing pain through her left thigh. She screamed, and threw the body away from her. Sitting up to see the other demon, handle on her father's knife, which ran straight down through her flesh.

Throwing a fist to his face, he recoiled just long enough for Jo to kick him with her right leg. It caught him right in the hip, and his meat-suit pounded on the floor a little ways away from her.

She turned, pulled the cursed blade from the dead body, and crawled with significant pain toward the demon.

He stood up before she could get to him, and kicked her in the face.

The room spun again, but her grip kept on the blade as her body flopped on the floor. She struggled to get up quickly, but she was still too sluggish.

His foot slammed down on her wrist; she cried out. He kicked the blade from her hand, sending agonizing shockwaves through her arm.

Reaching down with her other arm, she yanked her Dad's knife out of her own thigh and messily into his calf. He roared, and kicked her in the stomach.

"Bitch!" Bending swiftly down, he grabbed a handful of blonde hair, yanking her up to look her in the face, before smashing his fist into it.

Her head spun, her own blood splattered the floor, and she laughed hoarsely.

"Cunt!" He jerked her still laughing face up again, "You fucking crazy-"

The blade erupted though his forehead, and he chocked on his own words, his grip dropped from her hair. The lights flared inside the body for a moment as she stared into his eyes, still laughing.

The body slumped forward, now empty.

She stopped her laughter and slumped backward, feeling the same.

Kevin took the place of the demon, bending over her, panicked. Wide eyes, nostrils flared, mouth open and heaving breath.

"It's all good Kevin," She offered a swollen, bloodied smile, "Nice hustle."

"Wh-what? Jo-there's-there's so much blood."

"I can smell it."

"Are you still drunk?" his voice climbed higher on the range.

"A bit."

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

Her hand shot up and gripped his shirt, "Don't take my car."

He easily broke her hold and her arm fell back, without control, to the floor as he raced off, out of her sight and mind.

Staring up at the ceiling, relaxed; thoughts came to her mind which before would have come unwilling.

Thoughts of her mother's dark blue jean jacket, Bobby's blue hat, Ash's red plaid vest, Castiel's kaki trench coat, and Dean; his green eyes.

Her vision was suddenly clouded by what looked like glass.

She wondered for the second time that night what color it was considered to be.


	2. Blythewood and Chesley

Blinking the water and sunlight away, she sat up, raising a hand in salute to shield it.

"Bright."

She turned to the voice, smirking.

"Like you aren't."

Her first jabbed out, swatting him hard in the exposed arm from cut-off red plaid.

"Ochie." His face scrunched up more expressively that it should have.

"Shut it, then." She teased, turning back to look at the view; yellow, tall grassland extended out before them for some miles. Taller trees reached to the sky, which was darkened with grey clouds lacking no weight to them.

She sighed, "Well, the weather will soon match my intelligence apparently."

"Why do you always get so glum when it rains?" He asked, stretching back to the red cooler sitting behind them on the bed of his truck. Grabbing two beers by the neck, he shut the white lid down, while cracking the tops off. Sitting up, he offered her one with a broad smile on his face, eyebrows lifted playfully.

Taking it from his hand, she scooted to the tailgate, swinging her feet over the edge.

"It's just so grey, so dark...confining. I hate being cooped up I guess." she took a gulp afterward.

"Huh." he throated; mouthful of beer.

She rolled her eyes over to him, recognizing the 'bullshit' tone even without his having spoken a word.

"What?" her voice sounded out higher than expected.

Catching the heels of his boot to the end of the tailgate, he pulled himself forward, belt scraping against the metal bed of his truck.

Without looking at her, he sipped his beer. His swinging legs brushed a gentle breeze past her own.

"You ever wonder about why you can't stand to be confined?"

Her face furrowed, swallowing the dark lager down, "We're talking about rainy days here, genius. Don't get all higher thinking on me now."

"Typical." He snorted.

She didn't respond, unnaturally passive. She was enjoying herself; drinking in the scenery of home, letting the sunshine seep into her skin; she hadn't felt it in a long while.

"What were you thinking?" He said suddenly after a few moments.

"About?" Jo took another drink.

"Getting so drunk you couldn't handle yourself against two lame demons." he retorted.

Her eyes focused down on the wind; twisting yellow blades. When their color darkened, Jo knew the clouds had arrived.

"I know you weren't thinking, or-maybe you were; just too much."

Still, she was silent.

"About us."

Draining her beer, she threw it behind her to clatter in the bed.

"Shouldn't Mom be giving me this lecture?"

"Nah, she'd just yell, it never actually gets through to you."

She nodded, her head hanging low.

"You can't keep this up Jo, you got to push forward."

"Yeah that's what everyone tells me. But they also tell me that family is everything, nothing is more important than those in it." She snapped.

Her eyes leveled to his, tone dark as the clouds, "What happens when all the family you had is now gone. Dad, Mom, Pamela, Bobby, you! Now even Sam and Dean. Everyone in my family is dead and gone and I can't reason why I'm the one left and what I'm supposed to do about it!"

Her voice had escalated far above normal level.

"Don't sit here and lecture me about looking forward, and the road being open; I've been pushing, and I've been driving. If family was so god damn important why am I not allowed to mourn?"

"Mourn? No, Jo. You haven't done that right in a long while. Your Dad you did right, and me too. I'm inclined to think it's because I'm amazing."

She laughed at that, short and grudged. Head dropping low again, she listened.

"But Ellen? You drowned in that, sis. Since then you've been knocking yourself back down with each person gone. I know it's recent, Dean and Sam, but you have to know you can make it without any of us. Not to mention you have the Prophet of God to take care of and all, but you know, not that important in the scheme of things."

She rolled his eyes and met them; his reflecting the same color.

"You can make it alone."

"I hunt alone most of the time-"

"You know what I mean." He cut in, "Alone, alone."

Jo sniggered, "From the mouth of a genius-"

"Shut up."

"Do it yourself."

"Hormonal harpy."

"Mullet-ed moron."

The two of them smiled at each other widely. Turning their heads to look back at the scenery, filling their lungs with brisk Nebraskan air, taking in the grass and trees.

"Alright Jo, time to be on your way."

"Says who?"

"Your body. Now git out of my heaven."

"Yours? Who made you king of-"

Joanna fluttered her eyelids, feeling as if she was slammed back into her body. And it throbbed, heavy, and harrowing. She wished her body was as numb as her mind.

She groaned, unable to coherently react to the rush of new stimuli.

"Ash..."she grumbled, her eyes finally swiping the clouded glass from vision, seeing a small, squared, lightly painted room. Confused to see a significantly different scene that the plained grass of her Nebraskan home, her fear grew, as did a strange beeping noise.

Barely feeling like her limbs were her own, she tired to move- and found to have needles pinching her arm.

"Joanna Cronin? Please, stay still Ms. Cronin, you're alright, you're at Blythewood General Hospital."

She responded to the short brunette with a groan, which didn't seem out of the ordinary at all to the scrubbed nurse.

"You might be experiencing a bit of pain right now, not to worry! Doctor ordered to turn up the drugs for ya," She explained as she pressed a few buttons somewhere beside her bed.

"You should be happy as a horse any minute now!"

"Wonderful." Jo managed to breath.

"Oh and Ms; you've had some visitors waitin' outside, two gentlemen, are you feeling alright enough to-"

"Send them in." She croaked out.

"Sure thing!"

She waddled over to the door, opening it, and gesturing for someone to enter, "She'll see ya now boys, but please be gentle! She just woke up and might be high as a kite soon!"

A tall, lanky man in a suit strolled in first, a shorter more asian followed behind apprehensively in normal clothes.

"Garth?"

Nodding animatedly, the hunter made his way to her beside wearing a broad smile, "You've come back to us, girl!"

"Kevin-"

"Is right here." he answered for himself, appearing beside Garth.

"Good." she swallowed; her throat parched.

"Here you go-" Garth handed her water from her beside.

Draining the cup, she wiped her mouth and stared up at the two boys.

"What went down?"

Kevin stepped up to the end of her bed to answer, "I called the ambulance, then called Garth while they were on their way. They burst in saw the bodies, saw to you, loaded you up and here we are."

"Well, that was shorter than I thought it would be." She sighed,staring down at the IV poking into her arm and frowning.

"Cronin, huh?" she recognized her 'identity', "So I'm FBI and..." she trailed off looking to Garth.

"Undercover, of course. You were working a classified case when the two attacked you." He explained bouncing on his toes slightly, "they discovered your 'true identity'."

She started up into his enthused face, "Seems dramatic."

He nodded happily, "It was a hit with the local fuzz."

She shrugged, and started to feel numbness ripple through her body, and lightheartedness lift her thoughts.

"Man, am I still drunk?"

Kevin let out a short laugh, "No way. You've been out for a day a least."

"Yeah, you lost an uber amount of blood. What you're feeling is the magic of morphine my dear." Garth remarked with a grin.

"Oh," She glared tiredly up at him, "It's nice. I need some more."

The two shared a glance which seemed worrisome.

She rolled her eyes, flashing some teeth, "So what's the damage?"

"Three ribs broken, right arm fractured, infected stab wound through the left leg, and a major concussion."

She whistled low, "How long?"

"Until you're back in the game? Look at you, already wanting back in, what a little soldier!" enthusiastically, Garth lightly patted her head.

"If I were sober enough to smack you, it would hurt."

Kevin opposed Garth's mood and recited grimly; "The doctor said to rest on it all for six weeks, then take it from here."

Her brown eyes bulged, "Six weeks? Not staying here for that long, and someone's got to look after you-"

"Jo you got your drunk ass beat."

"Yeah, no more drunk fighting missy!" Garth chided.

"What were you thinking you told me you were going out for supplies-"

"I apologize. Don't worry, my subconscious has that lecture covered already."

Jo went unheard as Kevin ranted on,"What did you expect; that you would be in perfect shape after that fight?"

She smiled brightly, "Apparently that only happens for the Winchesters."

"Yeah, where is that Angel 'hurt-be-gone' touch?" Kevin asked aggressively.

"Unavailable." Jo replied with a giggle, "We're not special enough to have an Angel all our own to touch us."

Garth snorted into his hand, taking the statement perversely. He cleared his throat after receiving a look from Kevin.

"Aside from all of that-" Garth re-railed them, "She's right, you guys can't stay in one place. Crowley sent men after her, and I'm positive he had men out for you," he looked pointedly at Kevin.

"I'd bet my bottom he knows to combine those search efforts by now to spit out the both of you."

Jo sighed lightly and lay her head back down to her pillow, Kevin's fists curled under crossed arms.

Silence lay over the three as they contemplated what to do with the situation.

A giggling emerged from Jo, and the boys turned to look at her, serious faces unbroken.

"Why- why...would you...bet your bottom?" Jo made out in between the chortles, "I mean-" She stole a glance to Garth's hind region, voice breaking, "It's not that impressive."

Garth laughed, sharing a glance with Kevin, who's lips curved almost unwillingly into a smile.

"As a kite!" he exclaimed.

Jo's face dropped the laugh, "What kite?"

Taking a breath and shaking his head for clarity Garth turned to the prophet.

"Seriously though, we got to get you guys out of this town. It won't be long before C-man's on your butts." Garth reminded, ceasing the moment.

"What is it with you and butts?" Jo muttered in the background, picking up and playing with the green jello on the stand beside her bed.

"Yeah, and how are we gonna get Ms. morphine out of here?"

"I'll flash the badge, talk seriously to the right folk and I bet we can take this on the road with provisions."

"Alright, if you say so."

"Hey guys!" Jo suddenly shouted, having put down the green jello, looking as if she had an urgent thought.

"My brain feels fuzzy." Her eyes grew wide as if suddenly remembering, "Where's my car?!"

* * *

**Chesley, Ontario, Canada**

_Seven Weeks Later_

"Jo, last week your rib hurt so bad it put you down for a day."

"Last week I wasn't completely healed."

"How do you know you are now?"

"I can feel it."

"You'll feel it when you get hurt again."

"C'mon! Let's go at it, Kev."

"Don't call me that."

Jo shrugged, walking across the room and taking a stance.

Kevin exhaled long and deep, also taking his stance.

The time spent in Garth's distant relative's out-of-country home proved to be tedious. The pair grew restless after the first week. Kevin took to punching and kicking away at a black swinging bag. Jo, bored and unable to exert much activity due to her injuries, started to coach him from afar.

It became agreed by the second week that Kevin would now be trained to fight whenever demons came knocking again. Garth supplied them with cheesy martial arts teaching videos of all varieties, since they were forbidden to leave the house in case of being seen again.

"Just until you're healed up." promised Garth.

The third rolled around, and Jo dug herself into books entirely. Lore of the supernatural became her world; seeking, searching, scouring.

When Garth or Kevin asked what she was doing reading through them all, Jo would shrug, "I'm just preparing."

By the sixth she was itching for a job, feeling a need to salt, burn, or kill something. To be behind the wheel of her beautiful car, on the road and in America. This craving brought on an eagerness to fight, which brought on Kevin accidentally smashing into her ribs during sparing.

That gave her time to remember her time wish Ash in her own head, reflecting on what he had said. Not the 'get on with your life' speech, but the comment of Heaven. Could she really have been transported there?

She already asked the boys, her heart never gave out while she was out. At least, according to the doctor she didn't. The text yielded no clear answers either, but really she wasn't looking very hard, she sought for other things while nosed in books.

The seventh week she found herself itching again for a fight, then facing Kevin, fists up. After sparing with him more or less hurt-free; she decided to call it.

"I'm ready." she announced the next time Garth was in.

"Alright Joanna! Back in the game." He smiled at her, holding up his hand, a key ring hanging from his long, bony finger.

She snatched it from him eagerly, "You bet your unimpressive bottom."

Laughing he extended his other hand, which held a slender folder, "I thought you might need a warm-up case."

"You mean a hunter to do your small-time dirty jobs."

"Exactly. Now, you'll be fine dong this on your own-"

"Who says she'll be alone?" Kevin appeared in the frame of the door, arms crossed and eyes light.

"No offense Kevin, but you're the Prophet, which means you're really important to keep alive and well." Garth commented, "and you're not exactly a hunter."

Jo, feeling guilty for the incident that got them into this several weeks before, spoke up, "He can fight, Garth, and I can teach him the rest on the road."

"I dunno know-"

"It will be good for him to be one the road, if Crowley is looking for him, it'll only be a while before he turns up here. Besides, we've both been going crazy here."

"Makes sense." Garth shrugged.

"Sweet, I'll pack a bag." He turned to his room.

"Well, there's a hitch." she said.

He stopped, glaring at her questioningly.

She sighed knowing that her next statement would cause complaint, "I need at least two weeks alone before we hit the road together."

"What? Why?"

"Personal stuff. Training wheels, you know. Can't teach you right or protect you while I'm still rusty."

Garth gestured approvingly, "I think that's fair!"

"No way, I'm not staying here any longer. What happened to the it's not safe staying in one place for too long thing?"

Garth and Jo exchanged a look, caught.

"Alright, you can buddy with me for a bit." Garth offered with a tilt of his head, "Ever since I became the hunter hub I don't do too many intense cases, just helping out, retrieving things, reading, the works."

Jo gestured from Kevin to Garth, "What do you say Kevin? I'll call and we'll switch, I promise. I know that he can get a little...to be around."

"Oh hush up princess." Garth teased.

Kevin nodded, a reluctant smile which Jo was surely due to imminent escape, "Sure. I just wish I wasn't being treated like I need a babysitter."

"Not babysitter...think bodyguard, oh Prophet." She bowed shortly to him.

Earning a full smile, she was satisfied.

"Alright," slinging bags over her each shoulder, she turned and opened the door, glancing back at them, "See you on the road, boys."

Shutting the door behind her she drank in the outside air.

A bright smile lighted up her face for the first time in a long while when she saw her beautiful maroon '69 Buick Special Deluxe parked, welcoming her return.


	3. Gary and Kermit

**Gary, Indiana**

"I freaking HATE ghosts!"

Loading her sawed-off shot-gun, jamming her fingers shoving in rounds, she cursed.

In the middle of placing the circle of salt around the grave, the ghost of Claudine Johnston attacked her.

Luckily she had already placed a protective smaller circle for Hubby of the year from her vengeful flames.

Already having picked herself up from the ground, she retrieved her gun and had shot her away. Salt rounds would only keep her for so long, though. She needed time to dig, then ignite this berserk bitch.

"She will be back." he worried inside his own salt line, as Jo clicked the barrel back into place, loaded.

"I got that." She raised and held it with one arm, it wasn't a smart move but she needed to get to the salt, to finish bigger line.

"Perhaps you should let me out, I might be able to distract her."

"Just let me do my job, Rochester. We wouldn't want your ghostly soul feeding a vengeful spirit would we?"

"I could-"

With a screech of a banshee she returned, flying straight for her.

Jo dropped the salt-box and slapped her other hand to her gun, pulling the trigger.

She was inches from contact, and then she was blown away.

Jo hurriedly grabbed the salt and continued the large circle encompassing both graves.

Just as she closed it, Johnston appeared again, right on the edge of the line.

"Ha!" Jo laughed in her face, safe on the protected side, "get past that."

Stomping over to her bag, she drew out more salt, and a gasoline, glaring at the woman's ghost.

She glowered right back, watching her every move.

Jo's mouth smiled knowing she wouldn't be able to keep the energy to continuously be visible. Taking the shovel from its leaned position against her tall gravestone and the electric lantern, she walked to an edge and started to dig.

After a time she would look up and be unable to see her, but she knew she was there.

"She's pacing around you grave now."

Chin deep into the ground, Jo turned her head to see him; grey flannel suit and navy blue tie clad gentleman of the fifties, standing in his smaller circle.

"You're back." she remarked, thrusting the shovel into another heap of dirt.

"I thought you would like to know."

"Much appreciated." She heaved another heap over the edge and into a pile.

"You ought to make sure that dirt doesn't disturb the salt."

Jo let out an annoyed breath, "Look it's bad enough I'm saving your ass from her, I really don't need to be told how to do my job."

"I hardly think-"

"This was your fault? It was. You locked your dear wife up like some kinda Bertha Mason and expected her not to come after you when you rack up two other women."

"I caught the Jane Eyre reference before, thank you." He stiffly stated, "Though I do see some similarities in our situation. Hum."

"Hum." Jo repeated with sarcasm. Lugging another shovel-full up.

"She was completely insane, but I loved her still, even as it grew worse."

Jo snorted, "So you lock her into a room; unthinking that in her crazed state she might get away one day and start a fire? She shut all those innocent women into flaming rooms with no way out."

"She started the fire! It was not my fault."

"No but the other women were!" She shook her head, "Freaking ghosts."

Thankfully she heard no answer, and knew he had returned to being unseen. She hoped he was having a horrible chat with his crazed wife before she burned the both of them.

Finally hitting the grave she yanked the wooden coffin open, then climbed out of the grave. She looked over her arms, her jeans-all soiled with soil.

"Dirty work." She mumbled, sending a curse to Garth, wherever he was.

Mr. Johnston appeared again, face apprehensive.

"Now you're sure this will work?"

"Positive." She poured gasoline all over the bones with one hand, dusting it with salt from the other. Collecting the semi-emptied supplies back into her backpack, Jo retrieved the matches.

She then saw Mrs. Johnston, eyes dark and dangerous.

Jo struck the sulfur against the starter on the box, and set fire to its entirety, still looking right at her.

"Let's see how you enjoy being burned, bitch."

She threw it in. Immediately the bones caught fire, and as did she, bursting once the bones were ash.

Jo sighed, relieved. It was over.

"Whew. Time to get you out of here too."

His ghostly figure nodded.

With much more time spent and dirt moved, Jo dug him up, and climbed out. She stood beside him as she prepared his bones.

"Do you know where I will go?" he asked before she lit the match.

"No."

He sighed, "I'll hope for the best then."

She nodded, "Thanks for being such an easy ghost. Non-vengeful and all. I'm sure wherever you're headed, it won't be too hot."

He nodded, "Have you ever loved someone so much that you would kill them?"

"I'm not sure how that relates." Jo edged, thinking he might be stalling.

"Claudine; she killed me. Her crazed mind did warp the situation to be traumatic, but still, the principle remains. She loved me so much..."

Jo's mind flashed to another flaming death, this one in a supply store with hell hounds clawing at the doors. She had given her own mother that trigger...

Striking a match she lit a second box for the night, throwing it in hastily.

Packing up her things as he burst, Jo didn't turn her head to acknowledge the spirit departed. Instead she heaved the pack over her shoulders, muscles aching, and walked off, leaving the two graves open and smoking.

She pulled out her phone, just as she noticed the sky lighten.

4:27 am.

Scrolling to Garth's name she pressed the call button.

"Hey there, ho there!" He answered, "How goes the case?"

"Finished. You're awake?"

"Yep. Good getting back up on the horse! That was what, three days?"

She shrugged, taking the pack off her back.

"Yeah. Just wanted to let you know it's taken care of, and if you ever give me a ghost hunt again I might slug you."

Grabbing a water bottle she screwed it open, gulping it down.

Garth laughed, "Fine then, need a monster? It's yours if you want it, it's a bit of a drive though-"

Swallowing quickly she cut him off, "I've actually got my next one all lined up, and it's close so I'm heading off for it."

"No worries, I'll send in Mackey."

"Thanks." She twisted the cap on.

"You be careful out there."

"You too, tell Kevin I sent my greetings."

With a press on red the call ended, and she packed herself into her car, driving off to the motel before day broke.

* * *

_Twenty hours later_

**Kermit, Texas**

She hadn't exactly lied to Garth, but she did need to check up on something before her next job, she might need help with it. But she didn't want Garth's help, nor Kevin's...it was a family aid she craved for.

He kept the same last name from last time she searched him out.

She wasn't surprised, keep the name keep the girl. Hang the salt-rounded shotgun to gather dust, trade it for a warm bed.

And man, she definitely understood why he wouldn't come back this life compared to the comfort of warmed sheets and company.

Still, it made her angry.

The younger Winchester seemed to always step on her toes one way or another, not that any man of the family conjured great happiness from her anyway.

So she sat there, weighing her options whether or not to make that long walk to their front door. Debating against herself, she recalled the last time she had come to him for help.

* * *

_She stomped up to the motel room. _

_The kid at the front desk was easy to persuade with a crisp green bill in hand. _

_Knuckles hit the door in short intervals, lacking no force._

_The door opened a few moments later, his face unfocused and smiling, "Melis, I wasn't-"_

_His face dropped the former expression for a new wide-eyed clarity when their brown eyes met._

_"Expecting me?" She finished._

_"No-I...I wasn't." He stumbled on words while staring, but nonetheless made a gesture for her to enter. _

_Stepping past the threshold her eyes wandered, usual digs included-except an Australian Shepard laying on the bed, tongue lolling and eyes following her every move. _

_Walking up to it, she let him sniff her hand and patted his coat._

_"I never thought I'd see the day." She remarked._

_"Yeah," he had closed the door slowly, "It's a long story." _

_She nodded, taking her hands off the dog and facing Sam, "Great guard dog."_

_He made a sound half laugh half disbelief, walking to the fridge and opening it._

_"So who's 'Melis'?" She asked, watching as he grasped two beers by the neck, cracking them open._

_"Huh?" he turned offered her one and sighed, "Oh. It's also a story."_

_"So we aren't sharing." She dug in the remark coldly_

_"Jo-"_

_"I'm going to stop you right there. You had your chance to update, so let me." She stated, sarcastic enthusiasm etched into her voice. _

_He quieted, face guilty._

_"Meg and I were playing as nicely as possible; she took the shots, I had the borax bombs, we got past the leviathans fine. Then back goo explodes them, and we're attacked by fucking demons. Meg was gone, which, I could care less, but I got away, ran inside and found everyone-gone. Even you." _

_He looked at the bottle in his hands._

_"I had no idea what happened, I thought..." She choked, "By the time I got back out to the Impala it was gone too...I stole a car and hauled ass to Whitefish, thinking that someone would be there, someone would be alive. No one was."_

_Unmoving her eyes from his bowed head, she grew angry, regressing to those emotions from that day._

_"I called all your numbers. I called all of his. I prayed to Cas so many times...still nothing. After a few days I summoned Crowley."_

_His eyes shot up to hers, finally. _

_"He told me that everyone was dead, that I was only left, that he had Kevin and he was the next big bad. __He told me if I came after him; I would join all of you in hell."_

_Malice laced her tones, rising slightly, "And I'm taking that bait. H__e's moved Kevin deep under, Cas and your brother still need locating...and here I am. I'm not going to ask why you couldn't answer, or why you didn't find me, you needed time, I get it. But it's been two months; now it's time to get back."_

_He exhaled deeply, his eyes trailed away, lips rolling in on themselves, "Jo, I'm not hunting anymore."_

_She screwed up her face, mouth open in protest, "Why? Because you have a responsibility to your dog?"_

_"No, because I've found something here," his eyes blinked up to trap hers, "I think I'll finally be able to move on from the life."_

_Responding she gave an incredulous short laugh;"You mean you've found 'Meils'." _

_"Yes." he answered simply._

_"Do you really think you'll move on?" She was on her feet gesturing to thin air, "Have we ever seen anyone leave the life? You'll be dragged back sure enough, and I'm willing to admit I'm the dagger here." _

_Jo's voice reached above proper volume, "But if it's not me, it'll be Crowley, the last thing he needs is the threat of a Winchester walking around. And if I tracked you down, Crowley will be able to too."_

_"Well he hasn't." he replied, keeping an even tone, "He had his chance at Sucrocorp, and didn't take it. I'm out and he knows it; I don't see why he would chase me."_

_With each of his responses she grew angrier, "I'm asking for your help here. I can't snatch Kevin away from the King of Hell, or find Dean and Cas _alone_."_

_"Jo," He hesitated, "They're dead."_

_She paused, mouth tense, "What?"_

_"I saw them, they were just...gone. Crowley said-"_

_"He _lied_." cutting in, her tone was less so; "He told me you were dead too, but I _found_ you."_

_Stepping closer to him, now looking up to his face, "We can find them, together."_

_ The younger Winchester didn't meet her hopeful gaze, "I'm sorry, Jo...I can't help you. I just- I can't go back to that life."_

_Backing away slowly she slammed her bottle down on the table._

_"What about Kevin?!" She returned to her shouts, anger and emotion unchecked. It was too fresh of a situation, too much salt in the wound for him to release their life entirely, wiping her clean from it. _

_"What about everything you've worked for your entire life? What about what Dean '_died'_ for huh? If he's really dead don't you think he would want to you find him? At least _know _where he is if you can't do anything about it.__ He would want you to save Kevin and stop Crowley."_

_"Dean and I agreed!" he raised his voice too, "If either of us were to die, the other was to move on with their lives! He did it with Lisa didn't he?"_

_She slightly flinched from the memory, but rounded quickly, "And he came back."_

_"Yeah he did, but I was in hell!" He collapsed on a cheap chair, "I can't Do it anymore, not without him. I hate this just as much as you do, alright? I hate life without him, but it's what we agreed, and I'm going to honor it."_

_"I can see just how much you're hating it." She spat vehemently. _

_"Don't go there, Jo." He stood menacingly, tears also in his eyes._

_"I've lost too many people to go back, I've done enough for this world already don't you think?! I can't hunt without him there to keep me on track, I just can't! So stop your campaign alright? It's not my fault that you won't face that he's really gone this time! This isn't like before, Jo: he's not in hell, he's not living another life, I hope he's in heaven."_

_Tears rolled down her surrogate brother's face as it did hers too._

_"You know he's been upset every time I've brought him back. He said, 'what's dead should stay dead'. And I'm living up to his words.__ Dean's _dead_, Jo. He would want to stay that way for once."_

_There was a long, heavy silence, drastically contrasting the elevated voices from moments before. It was the kind of quiet between members of family that boiled the blood and bit at the soul. _

_Tears had long swelled over her vision, and released from the edge. His grip was white on the bottle's neck, fist clenched the same on the other hand. _

_Wiping away the tears with flicks of her fingers, she turned her gaze back to him._

_"Then give me what you can from the back of the Impala."_

_So much for family, she thought._

_The silence pursued them as they walked outside, unlocked the trunk of the achingly beautiful black beauty, and handed over the cursed knife, books of spells, and an angel sword. _

_Still without speaking she slung the bag full of new weapons over her shoulder, turned on heel and walked to her parked Buick. _

_"Jo." She heard when she was half-way to her car._

_Hesitating, she stopped, turning her head to look back at him._

_"Be careful out there...I'm sorry."_

_She turned again mouth clamped, loaded her car, and pulled out of the lot. _

* * *

Her eyes now followed a woman, parking her car in the driveway.

Ripped from her memory, she could only think that this was 'Meils' returning to the house, purse almost dragging on the floor and lab coat folded over her arm.

Sam opened the door for her, embraced and kissed her in welcoming. The dog bounced around their legs in excitement.

Seeing Sam's expression, she thought that this was what Bobby must have felt while watching Dean with Lisa and Ben. Mad, hopeful and ridden with grief.

As Meils made her way inside their house, Jo had made her decision.

At least she had one goal down since she last saw him. Now only one more to go.

Swallowing the burning in her upper chest, she cranked the lever out of park, turned the engine over, and drove out of the neighborhood; back on the road.


	4. Deals in Whitefish

**Whitefish, Montana**

_Rufus's Cabin_

A large bowl centered the rounded table, markings all around it and two candles framing the left and right sides. She tossed in ingredients, causing some sizzles and pops.

"Et ad congregandum..."

Slipping her bowie blade to hand she dragged it over her palm, squeezing it over the bowl with a wince to let the drips mix in.

"Eos coram me."

Quickly striking a match off the table and igniting it, she flung it in, and the fire blazed, happily eating up the offering.

Then she waited, eyes darting around; alert as she wrapped her hand in gauze and sterile bandaging. Why the Winchesters insisted on using dusty bandanas for their cuts, she never understood.

She wasn't left to wait too long-

Crowley appeared in the squared area between the tv and couch; suited, armed with the air of superiority, and that nasty smile on his face.

"Hello love."

"Crowley." she didn't take her eyes off him as she followed the curve of the table, finding a place in the front and sitting up on it, "It hasn't been too long since we saw each other last."

"But I've missed you all the same." he smirked, taking a step toward her, one hand feeling over his rugged chin, the other in his pocket.

"Did you get my telegram?" he asked slyly.

"I did, thank you," she smiled, "Those two were lovely."

"I thought you might like them." His eyes wandered around the cabin, obviously looking for someone.

"We're all alone, honey. I thought we needed time to talk."

"That we do." his eyes returned to hers, tone dropping pleasantries, "No demon trap, no one to back you; I must say you are getting sloppy, pet."

He snapped his fingers pointedly at her.

When nothing happened, brightly, Jo smiled. Slipping off of the table, she strut toward him, but not too close.

"Ever since your goons got me down, I've done some heavy reading."

Stringing a thumb under a long black lace, a familiar horned bronze amulet a the end. But the bronze wasn't the only thing she pulled out for his view; showing off a variety of demon warding charms and amulets slinking along it. With her other hand she pulled a hex bag from her back jean pocket.

Crowley chuckled, "Congratulations, you've gained two pounds."

"I'm a walking force-field. You can't touch me."

"You're no witch." he spat.

She grinned.

"The enchantments you've placed on your little trinkets won't last for long, love."

"Long enough for our talk."

"Then let's get to it; you have my prophet."

"I don't know about _yours,_ but I do protect a prophet." She began to walk around him, forming a large half-circle.

He tilted his head, "And you summoned me here."

"Well observed." she remarked snidely, pivoting and walking the other way.

He gestured his hands, palms up and shrugging, "You've got me, pet. Why?"

"I want you to do something for me."

"And what would that be?"

Stopping in the middle of her parabola, fixating on him.

"Retrieve someone from Purgatory."

Crowley was quiet for a moment, eyes on her.

"Ah, so you've found your man."

"Like I said, I've been reading."

He exhaled from his nose loudly, "What makes you think I can? I'm the King of Hell, love, not Purgatory."

"It's hell adjacent. You've been searching for a way in for ages now, and you usually get what you want. Don't you dare try to tell me more lies, Crowley. I know you know how."

"Even so," he chuckled, "why would I ever want to pull a Winchester from somewhere he isn't being a pain in my ass?"

"You don't need a reason, just bring him back." she seethed through grit teeth

Crowley stared at her incredulously, "You're going at this all wrong, Jo. You start with payment first, offer a deal. This 'because I said so' won't get you anywhere in life."

"I could say the same for you."

She narrowed her eyes, mind gripped tight on the cursed dagger behind her.

He stood, mouth open, looking at her; annoyed, thoughtful, and hungry.

"Fine then." He smiled broadly, "Let's make a deal."

"No deals." she cut, "The last time we made one, you didn't follow through. In fact-" she took another menacing step closer to him, her voice matching, "you did the exact opposite of what we agreed you wouldn't do. Why would I ever make another deal with you?"

"For Dean." he tried.

"You also used that last time. You'll have to do better than that if you want your Prophet."

Crowley's ears pricked, "Did I hear you right, love?"

"You did. Kevin is on the table. But you have to prove to me that I can trust you."

His eyes were greedy, "How's that?"

"Bring me Dean."

He stared into her eyes, as if mulling for truth.

She kept her face.

His glowered, turning sour.

"Fine. Here's what I can do, I'll get you to one of my freelance reapers."

"Reapers are freelancing now?" She asked, somewhat surprised.

Crowley shrugged, "Winchesters threw out the book and entered in an era of freewill for all supernatural kind."

Already she didn't care; just so long as this reaper could get into Purgatory.

"Does this reaper have a business card?"

He gave her a look close to a sneer and snapped a card between his fingers, flicking it her way.

She slid the stiffed paper into her own fingers, reading what was printed there in neat red font.

Julie

Taxi Services

Kansas City, Missouri

"Julie, huh?"

"New employee," He stepped back from her, "Don't be too much of a bitch customer."

Jo simpered, slapping the card back and forth on her wrist.

"In exchange for her services," he continued, hands in pockets, "you'll bring Kevin to Kansas City."

Jo let out a short laugh, "That is not how it's going to work. See, I'll get there with Kevin and then you'll just kill me and take him."

He acted offended, "I would never kill you off, pet, you're too fun."

Ignoring him, she continued, "So I'll show up, after stashing Kevin somewhere safe. Once I know Purgatory is a guarantee, I'll give you his location."

Crowley's breath dragged over the back of his throat, "Fine. You're a hard one, you are."

"I remember something similar said in the past." she retorted.

"Well then," he clapped his hands, and rubbed them together, coming closer to her.

"Now time for our kiss, love. Sealing and all."

Narrowing her eyes, Jo stepped toward him, tantalizing, "We kissed last time, and still it didn't seem to seal your side of the agreement."

"You'll just have to trust, then." he rocked forward on his feet, breath smelling of stale, minted dirt.

Grimacing, she shook her head, "Time to pull out that pen and paper, buddy."

It was his turn to shake his head, "I'm afraid I've bargained too much with you already love, the kiss is now mandatory."

She glowered, lip twitching in displeasure.

"Fine." She growled.

He clawed a handful of blonde hair and pulled her in.

She squeezed her eyes shut, lips not pursed.

Holding her there for several long moments, she yanked her head away, his fingers taking souvenirs of curly golden strands.

She wiped her mouth in disgust as he sighed in triumph.

"Never gets old."

"Creep." She spat.

"That's King creep to you. You have two days to get Kevin in order and be in Kansas City."

"Got it. Now get out."

With a sly smile he teleported before her eyes.

Heaving a sigh; _phase two_, she thought grudgingly, flicking open her cell phone and scrolling down to the name she needed.

Based on previous experience, she knew Crowley had something up his sleeve. It was time she was prepared some of her own tricks in her own.

He was, after all, a demon, she shouldn't expect any more from him, and doing that last time caused some serious trauma to a family...

* * *

_He was adamant, following her on her way out the way a father would on his daughter's first date._

_She strut out, backpack firmly on and shoulder-slung weapons bag bouncing off her behind. _

_"Don't leave." His voice was gruff, commanding._

_She snorted as she opened the trunk of her car, "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore."_

_"He promised me Mary!"_

_"Don't even try to give me that Cambell-Winchester family shit." She threw in her bags with some emotional force, "we were your family! We could have had something great, but you decided to throw it all away. You trained us as better Hunters for your own need. You took advantage of your own family; you lied."_

_"Joanna."_

_She stopped short, opening the car door and glaring at him. _

_"Samuel, you've had us hunting under orders from a demon, and not just any demon; _Crowley_." She spoke through grit teeth, "That's unforgivable, even in my book."_

_He stood there, hands clenched into fists. _

_"I would have died fighting with you. I thought I was doing something good here, working with you, feeling like a part off this fucked family. But I won't work for any King of Hell, or anyone else who does, even if I care about them." She ranted, leaning on her car door._

_Starting afresh with venom in her words, Jo refused to let his grandfather expression win her over._

_"I don't care if the boys are sticking with it; he doesn't have anything to dangle over me to make me stay, and neither do you. We're hunters, Campbell. When did you switch sides?"_

_Before he could reply she slammed her car door, locking herself inside and turning the engine over._

_Her wheels spit dirt and rock as she pulled away, Samuel watching with a morbid expression._

_She was on the road for thirty minutes, still seething, when something came into view on the road ahead of her._

_A man dressed in a black suit; crimson silk tie smoldering under her headlights._

_She exhaled in dark pleasure, and gave the pedal more thrust. Speeding toward him, she hoped she actually had a chance of hitting him. _

_Just before the impact he was suddenly gone._

_She screeched to a halt, looking in her rearview to find him standing there, sly smile wide and taunting._

_Snarling, she set it for reverse, and stepped on the pedal; hard. The car jolted to a stop with a snap of his fingers, and she whiplashed against the headrest._

_Back of her skull aching, she pushed open her door and stepped out, legs somewhat unstable._

_"You better not have ruined my car."_

_He only smiled as she walked down the length of the Buick over to him, eyes aflame, and dragging a shot-gun._

_"Where do you think you're going, love?"_

_"Away." _

_She stood in front of her car as if to protect it from him, blinking the pain out of her focus while holding her shot-gun for his chest. She knew it wouldn't do much, but the salt rounds would make him keep his distance. If only she had Sam's knife..._

_"I'm not doing your dirty work anymore, now that I know that it is."_

_Shaking his head disapprovingly, he remarked,"That just won't do."_

_"Well you'll have to make it." She gave him a closed-lipped smile with an aggressive tilt of her blonde head._

_He shrugged, his broad black shoulders, "I just can't."_

_She scoffed, and turned away from him, returning to her car-_

_He appeared in front of her._

_Immediately she re-aimed the shot-gun with a huff. _

_"See," he ignored the weapon, "I need all available Hunters on this; numbers equals progress, progress equals results, you get the big picture."_

_He looked at her in a way that make her want to vomit._

_"And you, my dear, have been racking in those curious kills and captures. You're right up there with Sammy."_

_"Fuck off," She smiled as she spat it, "you have nothing to keep me on your payroll."_

_Snapping a picture of Dean to his fingertips, tone threatening, "Here is your payment then, pet. You keep bringing in those nasty monsters for me, and I won't kill him." He wagged the photograph in front of her._

_She snorted, "Yeah, okay, like you would really waste Dean Winchester."_

_He shrugged nonchalantly, "He is a bit rusty when it comes to the job, he's a prick in my ass anyways, might as well just be rid of the problem."_

_Her smile didn't falter,"No way, you need him, just like you need me. But-" she lifted her eye-brows and lowered the gun, playing at lust, "I didn't know you were so fond of me, makes a girl feel all kinds of special."_

_The two of them stared each other down for a moment._

_"I bet you are very good at poker."_

_Ruefully, her lips spread further on her face, "I am."_

_He matched her smile, "Tell you what then, love-"_

_Stepping forward, she could smell his breath, musky and minted, "Keep working for me, and I won't go after Dean's little happy family."_

_"Why should I care?" she raised her eyebrows, licking her lips, "If you know mine and Dean's history-"_

_"Oh I do, and I know you still have those little schoolgirl pangs for him. I know that when Sammy boy fell into that flamed pit, Deano promised to live a pathetic little normal life...with you."_

_"How do you know that?" She growled, voice trembled. _

_"Winchester drama is the best to tune into. I keep my tabs, love." He stared down at her, smiling through those dark brown eyes, "And in keeping them I learned that when the time came to settle, he chose little miss normal and her son over you."_

_She was shaking now; murderous and sorrowful from the rush of suppressed emotional memory. He had completely turned this conversation to what she never expected it would be; out of her control. _

_"Tell me, love-" he took another step, so close that she could smell the smoke from his body, "-did he tell you? Did he even say goodbye?"_

_Waiting a few moments to push back the memories and contain herself, she stared back up at him._

_"This is you bargaining for their lives?"_

_"No, this is me reminding you how pathetic you are Miss I'msotoughnow. I'm reminding you that I will always have something on you, something to make you do whatever I want."_

_Opening her mouth for an acidic retort - he snapped and they were abruptly outside of a house, standing on the street adjacent._

_Both street and house spread dark goose bumps through her body. _

_Crowley leaned in from behind her, lips at her ear._

_"Have a look-" he extended his arm to point through the living room window._

_She saw her distant reflection through a glass window, then focused her eyes beyond it. _

_There Lisa and Ben sat: watching a movie together with popcorn, cuddled up and cozy on the couch, completely unaware of the supernatural outside under the street lamp._

_Inhaling sharply when he whispered into her ear, Jo stood transfixed._

_"You still have that feeling for Dean, and I know you would hate to see the ones he loved ripped away from him, I know that a good girl like you would hate to see innocent people sacrificed..."_

_She watched them, thinking about the last time she had seen them trough that window-_

She thought; 'This could all be in my mind...'

_"Just think if I just sent my goons in there-" _

_Another snap and demons were outside the door- _

'Crowley could be playing me...'

_"and Dean were to come home to their dead bodies..." _

_the demons wrenched it open-_

'I can't take that chance.'

_"_Fine._" Jo turned to him suddenly, stiff and livid. _

_"It's a deal. I will keep hunting for you if you do not harm Lisa and Ben in any way."_

_Looking deep into her eyes as if to ascertain how much she meant it, he waited for a moment. Seeing her grudged desperation, he snapped for a third time._

_The demons disappeared as Lisa cautiously went to the door to see no one there. _

_"Well isn't this wonderful!" He grinned._

_She glowered, feeling homicidal and beaten._

_"Just to make it official, sealing with a kis-"_

_Jo grasped the back of his head and pulled her lips to his before he could finish, eyes shut tightly._

_When she jerked herself away from him, they were back on the road, her car right beside her. _

_He smiled wide, and licked his lips._

_"I must say, business with you is the best I've had in quite some time."_

_Unresponsive and nauseous, she turned on her heel toward the comfort of her car. _

_"Thank you for that, love!"_

_Jo promptly flipped him off as she opened the door, threw herself in, and started the engine with a rumble._

_She could still hear him laughing as she tore into a vicious turn, tires now rolling back from once she came. _

* * *

Jo shook the memory angrily away.

Crowley had been right; no matter what she did he would always have an advantage.

But that was going to change.

Packing up her stuff she looked at her phone, and texted a contact.

'On my way to you'

Before she left the cabin she took a cut piece of fabric and laid it out on the circular table. Sending a silent thanks to Bobby for keeping the cabin stocked with ingredients, she started her work.

Inside of the fabric she placed two bones from a chicken's foot, an unbroken spider egg, equal pinches of lavender and hemp, and sprinkled it all with goofer dust.

Undoubtably Crowley would be wanting to keep his tabs on her after their encounter, and the hex bags she had just made would keep him and his goons from her tail.

A beep sounded and she flipped the phone up to read the message.

'Be ready. Bring wine'

Shrugging and made a note to stop for an inexpensive bottle on her way to St. Louis.


	5. Missouri Memories

**St. Louis, Missouri**

A bottle gone and still her focus remained steadfast. It seemed Jo was catching on better to magic than either of them had hoped.

James Frampton sat beside her, legs crossed, arms and eyes open toward her. His palms extended, one under and one over her own.

She sat the same, her eyes closed and sight introverted inward, to her own power.

Something flickered in the corner of the room, blonde and lean, James's eyes wandered from Jo to the image she was creating.

His palms squeezed hers tighter, giving her a boost of his own energy.

It held, staring at him with those beautiful brown eyes.

"Nicely done." He whispered.

As soon as Jo opened her eyes to see his, the magic behind her dissolved, and he swung his gaze back. Her eyes fell on his still grasping her palms.

Lingering there, she felt a surge of energy, unable to differentiate if it was magical or otherwise. Her teeth caught her lower lip, biting in indecision.

"I'm still riding with training wheels though."

"You've only been practicing for a few weeks now, give yourself a break." he applied gentle pressure to her hands again.

Raising her eyebrows, she expressed some doubt, "This is a major trick we're pulling, I need to be on my game without a constant coach."

"Says who?" he still did not release her hands, "I could be there with you."

"What about your witch community thing?"

He shrugged, "I've only just introduced myself, I haven't fit in yet, they're still mulling over my entry or if I should even have a familiar."

"Well, it would be nice to have the extra energy boost." she admitted.

He offered a wide grin, "And I'm glad to be that for you."

Locking irises she felt something within her squirm. She knew what was to come tonight, the way he was looking at her and how they were sharing energy left no doubt.

"Then we should leave to get a hotel close to the meeting spot."

"Tonight?"

This time she grinned, "Early tomorrow would be fine too."

Slowly, James's hand lifted from her own and grasped the side of her face, pulling her into a sensual kiss. She responded, mind letting the body take control from exhaustion.

Why shouldn't she enjoy herself?

Tomorrow would be tense, and who knew what danger Crowley would pull on her. Who knew if her own plan would succeed, if Dean would actually return.

So why not share another kind of magic with the hot, experienced witch?

As they grew closer and their lips grew parted less often, Jo let the awkward and presently unwanted thought of Dean's return simmer away.

That was an affair of her mind, and now her body needed its own affair.

* * *

She knew this was a dream because she had already lived this, already thought these thoughts, had already stood on this street as tears as hard as glass rolled down her stoned face.

Even if it was, she could not help but to relive it; eyes fixed, body limp, mind without sensation as she watched.

Just watched.

She watched him as he rolled over, worn face tired.

The bed was a strange wooden color, all the sheets they touched by naked skin were exempt from board stiffness. The room around them was dimly lit, but somehow she knew and accepted the fact that this memory would relive itself on a dining room, the bed as a table.

"They say sleeping is good for you." She remarked, smirking.

"They say being a smart-ass isn't." he grumbled.

"Ha." She breathed, scooting closer to him under the sheets.

He sighed, "It's just trouble lately, to close my eyes and..." trailing off awkwardly, Jo decided to change things up, distract his and her own mind.

_Let me just believe I'm actually here again._

"Well they also say," She breathed as she climbed on top of him, planting kisses on his bare chest, "that some nocturnal activities can exhaust a man to the point of sleep."

She got that smile from his lips as she straddled him, "Do they?"

"Yeah, but, smart-asses wouldn't know that is good for a man, would they?"

His smile grew broader, earning her one to match it.

Rough hands rested on her hips.

Looking down into his green irises, she saw that familiar desire. However tired they might be, she was glad for its presence. She felt important, unique to him.

"With you on top of me like this, nothing else matters."

"So close, no matter how far..." she sang. Grinding her hips against his to the imaginary beat without prompt from his warm hands, she continued.

"Couldn't be much more from the heart."

He groaned low in pleasure.

"Forever trusting who we are."

"And nothing else matters." he growled the rest, eyes aflame. She felt a stiffening response from him between her legs.

He sat up suddenly, inches away from her face.

"Metallica huh?" hot breath sent shivers through her, "What happened to REO?"

She smirked, controlling her breathing, "We can sing that instead, if you want-"

He kissed her lightly, lips rough as his hands. She trembled, and almost failed to remember her grind.

"I can't fight this feeling any more-"

"No." growling, he pressed his lips against hers again.

She drew back playfully, "I've forgotten what I started fighting-"

His hands flew up, grasping her face and crushing his lips to hers. They ceased their songs, lost in lips. Feverishly they clung to each other; grouping, grinding, groaning.

Flipping her, she bounced on the motel bed, and he was over her, the kisses unrelenting. She could feel him everywhere; prominently .

He returned over her, repositioning her right leg over his same shoulder, her ankle resting there. Feeling his member on her exposed wetness, her mind reeled, returning shakily to the song in anticipation.

"Never opened myself this way..."

He smirked, "Man, I love you," and slowly sank forward, into her and the song continued to play in mind.

She fought for breath and memory to cling to what he had just said to her, but as he pushed his length all in, her thoughts scrambled.

As if to savor every inch and movement inside her, he decided to take his time. She groaned, he pulled out almost all the way-before stroking back in, steadily.

His thrusts continued to remain at an agonizing pace, however reaching every side and angle she wanted explored.

Shuddering, she wailed, unable to find words to demand a pounding pace. Every moment she was just on the delicious edge-and he delayed her. Building, boring, burning.

With a sly chuckle and grasp on her leg he sped up, friction heating up inside her. Seat dripped, teeth bit, breath quickened.

Both his hands found her leg with a guttural growl, slamming suddenly into her.

She cried out in splendid surprise, earning her another pound. He belabored into her, forceful yet pace still static. Leaning forward, the back of her leg flattened against his slick chest, deepening.

His name erupted from her lips, loudly.

Flaring from her pleasure, his pace then quickened, and her body gave out succulently, no matter how much she tried to delay it. With a loud sigh she climaxed, tightening around him. Which sent him over the edge mentally.

Throwing her leg down he gripped her hips and slammed his against them, thrusting and grunting as she whimpered, high and delicious. His body then shuddered, and was spent, bouncing on the bed beside her.

Together they panted.

Snaking an arm around her waist he pulled her easily against him, molding to each other, lips at her ear, "And nothing else matters..."

She gave a breathy laugh, "I love you."

He chuckled deeply, and nodded.

Together they lay, as their breaths returned to even levels.

"Hey," She turned, his arm gliding over her skin as she faced him.

"Humm?" His eyes closed, face relaxed.

"When this is over-"

She felt him tense.

"It's hard to think about, I know. And I also know that Sam wants you to..."

His eyes opened to fix on hers, green and firm.

"I just-" she faltered, "I want a life...outside of this too."

He took a deep breath, turning over on his back, retreating his arm off her and under his head. She remained on her side, feeling weak, but she stayed strong, lifting her head into her palm.

Just above her head, a black-headed woman mouthed something to Dean, sitting at the table they lay on. An annoying reminder.

Jo, only seeing her through peripherals, ignored her, focusing in on him, determined for this time for difference.

"I know we've never discussed what exactly we expect from each other, and I've had no problem with that..."

"There's a but."

"But" she continued, smirking slightly, "if we survive the apocalypse; it makes me think ahead."

A sound came from his throat, like a deep sigh.

Young and wide-eyed, a boy sat behind Dean, sitting at the table and staring at the older man. Without a thought of why that might be strange, Jo pushed on. She determined to relive this differently.

"I want to give it a shot."

He turned his eyes from the ceiling to her.

"And I want to try it with you." finishing, she allowed a silence for him to contemplate.

Beyond the two lovers laying there, the woman and her son continued to talk, pausing and answering each other, faint whispers tickling her ears.

Again she pushed them away, eyes on him.

His tongue flicked out over his lips, as she waited nervously for his response.

"I hear you Jo, and I'm trying to think ahead, I really am."

He turned his entire body back on his side to face her, "Look I know I'm not good at this talking stuff,"

She laughed shortly, "Stuff?"

"Take it easy on me, I'm letting this moment happen, alright?"

She smirked, nodding her head for him to continue.

"But I do know that this might not end well, and if it does end the way Sam sees it...I have thought about a normal life."

He paused for a moment, averting his eyes.

"If things were to play out that way...I could see myself with you, is what I'm trying to say."

His eyes trailed back up to hers; deep, green, reflexive pools.

She could see he said what he meant, but couldn't say what he meant when he said it. Tears fell as she grasped that, splattering on the grained sheets.

Before, she had taken solace in the instance that he could see a future with her, as she with him. That was probably the best answer she could have gotten from him; not a lie, yet not the truth.

She had replicated her own past.

In her own dream.

Letting in a breath into her starved lungs, she felt the sad smile spread her lips; bitter.

Shifting, suddenly a clothed Dean sat at the stiffened part of the table, wooden and joined conversation with the woman and son. Still on the sheeted wood in the center of the table, naked and tearful, their voices were now piercingly clear, words unimportant. The three looked through her, as if she were not there.

She watched him as the focus shifted, beyond the glass.

She watched as he sat at that table, now free of slacked sheets.

He reached for his drink, then a dinner roll she had placed in the middle of the table. Responding to table talk, sharing glances with her, and her son.

Those same hands he had touched her with, lips he had kissed her with, eyes he glanced to her.

Eyes fixed, body limp, mind without sensation; she watched him eat dinner with his new family.

_New family._

That thought sank; perforating down, through her core. Learning a whole new meaning to nothing else mattering.

Looks like that punch she swung when they first met had finally been returned, sinking deep in her gut.

She had given him time after his brother fell into the pit. Time she believed he needed alone. He had told her that. It had only been a couple of weeks afterward. She had called, she had worried, and she had sought him out.

Lisa and her son had been mentioned in conversations sparsely. Never had she expected he would end up there; living the normal life with them that she dreamt of so ardently with him.

He hadn't even told her, he hadn't even said good-bye.

And obviously she still wasn't over it.

Why else would it be disturbing her dreams?

Unable to contain the sob, it burst forward, releasing a pathetic noise with it. She was sure it was powerful enough to break through to her waking body.

The street light above her flickered, she caught and image of the man sleeping next to her in real-time with the absence of yellow light.

"Joanna." the familiar voice frightened her.

She whirled around, favorite 92 Beretta appearing in hand and aimed; just as the light gave out with an electrical hiss.

But this time James was unseen.

Her eyes adjusted, gun still pointed at his chest.

Voice failed by grief, eyes red and wide, face grim and shaken, her arm lowered from her target slowly. The mixture of her distress and confusion got the best of her actions.

"Sam?"

He looked at her the way he had in Duluth, the way he had when he cornered her with sexual advance after a kill while they had hunted together...when he had no soul.

Dreamed Jo felt the anxiety and bitter fear creep under her skin.

He advanced, lips licked, hands flexed, ready to grab, brown eyes fixated with frightening determination.

She froze, unable to move, as helpless as a doe.

He could hurt her, even in the dream. he could make her relive that awful night in Duluth, the dark part only her and Sam remember and kept under lock and key.

Behind him, appeared Crowley, laughing deeply.

It echoed and reverberated as Sam gripped her, and the street yanked out from under her.

Jo woke with a start, feeling as though she had just fallen back into bed.

Without a noise signaling a nightmare, she bolted up, sweating and breathing heavily from her nose.

Swiping her hands over her face, she tried to clear the dream away through the motion.

She shouldn't have seen Sam and Crowley a day apart, it really messed with her day thought, and now was messing with her sleep.

But that would be forgotten, and fast.

Today was the day; all or nothing last shot to bring Dean back.

Rolling over she woke a groggy James, not bothering to do so gently or as a lover would. When he roused he kissed her lightly on the lips, which she returned shortly, tolerating. After that she kept her distance.

That time was over. It was all business now.

Her dream, while she was in it, terrified her. In the waking world, those memories gave her fuel, staunchness.

It was time enough for her to grow out of her pansiness.

Ash had been right, dwelling was no way to deal with her situation.

She needed to remember who she was; a hunter.

Hunter's don't reflect, they retaliate.

That's just what she was going to do.

No more depression, no more bitching no more crying, it had been months-it was time to step up to what was in front of her. It was time for aggression, time to get him back, and nothing else mattered more to her.

Twenty minutes after James and Jo woke, they were packed and on the road.

Three hours later they were in Kansas City. Their hotel hosted a perfect view looking over the street of taxis in a line, waiting for the night's calling.

James responded well to her sudden change of demeanor. She knew that he wouldn't have expected anything serious from what they had shared the night before, and she was definitely grateful for the tension release. Most men would not have responded well to her colder, get business done attitude. But James pulled through, understanding just how much importance this action was to her.

Plus he got the satisfaction of saving a Winchester. Again.

James and she practiced another few hours, before the time came.

Starting out the glass window to the street memorizing, James stood beside her, "This will work."

"I hope it does." She murmured.

"Have you got a good map of the area?"

She nodded, "All in the noggin."

He repeated the head movement, "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

Meeting eyes, they locked as their bodies sank to the floor, lotus pose. Arms extended out to each other and grasped firmly there.

Already she felt a tingle of energy spread from his fingers to her palms.

A deep, synchronizing breath harmonized them, and with fluttering eye-lids the dove into the magic.

In her mind's eye, drawing from the energy, she saw Crowley enter the scene.

Hands in his pockets and sly smile on his face once she suddenly rounded the corner of the alley and marched for him.


	6. Perdition in Missouri

**Note: **I know it's been awhile, I got caught up in life, but now I'm back and have time for my story.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any part of this wonderful universe Supernatural had provided, I thought I might remind myself as I continue from my hiatus. The OC was created for my need of a character however, though what she is, is not. I hope you hate her.

* * *

**Kansas**** City, Missouri**

"Well, hell-o there love."

"Crowley" she nodded, "this must be Julie."

Her eyes raked over the young reaper, getting a feel for her appearance. It was dark; she looked more demon than neutral reaper. Red harlet lips, iris color unseen, deep burgundy straitened hair reaching a length to her elbows.

Dangerous. Perhaps persuadable if Jo could provide something valuable.

Julie returned the size-up.

"Jo and Julie go to purgatory." Crowley chuckled, "Sounds like a sexy movie does it not?"

Jo ignored his comment, "Lets get going then."

Julie and Crowley remained rooted.

"I believe I'm in need of a place."

"I believe you still have to deliver Dean."

"I'm no pizza man. You'll have to do it the Digiorno way, love."

Her lips rolled into each other, "How about Julie here takes me to the edge of crossing planes, then I shout the site back to you?"

Crowley shook his head patronizingly, "Why do you insist on being so bloody difficult? Why can't we just both get what we want?"

"I still stand."

He stared at her for drawn out seconds, then nodded at Julie.

The reaper took the signal, and walked toward Jo, who let her eyes spot Crowley before turning on heel to follow. Julie lead them silently to an alley splattered with graffiti.

Jo concentrated hard to keep her form together in unfamiliar territory.

Facing the wall to the North, Julie simply stared at it, and a glowing orange light forced itself through the graffiti, separating the art to make way for the portal.

Jo smirked, rarely did she get what she wanted first.

"Now it's open, where-"

"Paisley, Oregon in house 113 on Ravenswood Avenue."

He offered a lazy half grin, some of her perfect white teeth showing, "I'll see you on the other side then."

She didn't like the way he sent her off, but when his fingers snapped and he disappeared she knew the clock had started its ticking.

Steady on her feet she marched into the portal, Julie close behind.

The surrounding changed, and she reacted poorly, her feet wobbled and she halted, gaining immunity to the pressing darkness and disorientation from the complete turn of place in the planes.

She needed to steady her form, concentrate hard on keeping it.

Getting a strange glance from the reaper, Jo cleared her throat, expecting her to say something about her sudden wooziness. The dark woman did not say a word and gestured to continue.

Jo nodded and started forward.

Hesitantly she walked, Julie close on her right. Their paces matched, signaling agitation.

The unilluminated corridor extended ahead, watching as steel, barred doors held in who knew what. Whatever inside the cages made noises which earned Jo a heavier beat to her heart.

"So the monsters are put in cages in their hell." Jo commented to her side, "What a lovely zoo."

Still Julie remained mute, and Jo raised her eyebrows awkwardly in response.

She picked up her speed, and Julie did not fail to match it. Undoubtably Crowley ordered to keep the blonde hunter always in sight.

Occasionally she passed a bloodied body hanging from the walls by chains, skin opened variously and oozing red. They moaned and murmured as she passed by, mostly nonsense to her ears. They looked hauntingly human...

No. She saved herself from morbid thoughts. They could have been any monster with the ability to take on human form. Man, were there many.

Even if she asked Ms. Stickupherass what creatures they were she doubted she would get an answer. She was starting to believe Julie did not posses a tongue.

After a while the hallway ended, and they came to a hexagonal room, each border extending into increasingly endless halls with barred doors and painfully pitiful groaning.

There was one hall to her left that contained no trapped monsters, nor personage hanging from the dungeon-like walls. Instead it was shortened, with a red tinge to light it. Above the walkway it read "Chamber 3."

She continued under it, thinking about what she had just read and her previous readings about Purgatory. The two didn't seem to have very much in common so far.

It did not matter, she needed to get to Dean.

Swinging right the girls found themselves in a room, Jo had to pause to feel the enormity of it. The ceiling seemed to stretch, never ending to a black sky, with no source of it a light shown red and bright, as if everyone inside the room was already drenched in blood.

The smell was enough to cause Jo to choke on her breath; burning flesh, boiling blood, and baking bone. It was no wonder; the room was rowed in racks, like numerous series of factory belts with their own platforms extending to the center walkway, cutting thought what looked like the middle evenly. The racks were skyscrapers against the always black atmosphere and blistering red sun.

In each rack there was a person tied down; ankles, wrists and middles strapped, bodies fully exposed, nothing to hide from the torture. Speaking of, Jo only just registered that each connected platform row also supported a chained human, naked and supplied with an array of horrible instruments to inflict as much pain as possible. All along the walls there hung more bodies, whipped and bloodied; some joining the screaming choir of the entire chamber, some rambling, some catatonic.

She turned to Julie slowly, feeling as if her legs were not her own.

"This isn't Purgatory."

Jo knew now where she was, and she didn't want a vocal answer from her this time.

Crowley had sent her to hell.

Hell.

Julie offered a smirk, then gestured her chin behind Jo.

She turned again, shaking and uneasy about turning her back on the mute reaper. When she flicked her eyes away to see the reason for Juile's nod, Jo could not tear her eyes away.

Her mouth opened wide to make room for her heart, which she almost vomited out. The blood in her veins pumped so hard she only heard it's gushing behind her eardrum. Tears stung her face and stabbed at her stomach.

There her mother hung, wearing clotted and dried blood for clothes, eyes staring directly at her.

"Mom?" She asked weakly.

A twitch contorted Ellen's cheek in response.

"It's Joanna, Mom." She stated stronger, edging closer to where she was suspended.

"Leave me. I've learned my lesson." She murmured.

Jo realized her own mother did not think she was real.

"Momma, please-"

A shout and rustle of chains caused a startle, and Jo's eyes were distracted to the man pinned to the wall next to her mother.

She did a double take.

"Daddy?"

Tears rolled as hard as glass off her face now, dropping heavily to the floor, "Dad it's Jo."

"I disobeyed and am now punished." He slurred.

She swallowed her heart back down, "Dad, do you recognize me?"

"I disobeyed-"

"Dad!"

"AND AM NOW PUNISHED!" he screamed down at her, causing her to step back again, shaking almost to the point of convulsion.

"Joanna Beth?"

Jo turned, crying uncontrollably to the small whisper of her name.

Her mother was still looking directly at her, now with uncertainty in her eyes.

"It's me Momma, really." She sobbed.

Ellen began to cry.

"What happened to Dad?"

Her mother swallowed hard, "Jo, he's been here for years and years..."

"What happened to you?"

She didn't answer this time.

"Did they-" Jo caught her breath through ravaging tears, "Did they send you to him?"

Ellen dragged her eyes shut painfully, remembering the day.

Jo sobbed harder at the unspoken answer; that demon had been telling the truth.

"Did he-did-"she couldn't even fit the words past her swelled throat.

Again, Ellen didn't answer, and again Jo fell into harsher cries.

"Joanna Beth you have got to focus. You've got to get out of here baby."

"But-"

"What are you doing here?" Ellen shouted, a crazed look in her eyes.

"She's going to be my new chew toy." A new voice answered.

Ellen's chains rattled against the wall in a sudden flurry of anger, "Don't you fucking dare you bastard!"

Crowley only smiled at the older woman, "Hush Ellen, we wouldn't want Bael to come back and deal out another punishment would we?"

She winced harshly at the name.

"This wasn't the deal Crowley." Jo screamed hatred spitting.

He swung his head to her, "Nor was setting up a booby-trapped house in which Kevin was not in. The pool of holy water was a wonderful touch."

"Thank you, I hope you enjoyed the swim." She snarled.

"Well, look at us sweetheart; what a double crossing pair we make."

He moved to put his arm around her in a half embrace, which she sharply avoided.

"Do not touch me."

He whistled low, "Well you'll warm up to me, pet. Now that you're here you are mine for me to do whatever I want."

He stepped so close to her she would have been able to feel the cool breath on the face of her skin.

"Work does come first I'm afraid, I will be getting Kevin's location out of you missy. Then we can get back to this little family reunion and have some more fun, just the two of us."

He winked, and she heaved, disgusted.

"What do you say, love?"

"I say fuck off, I'm no Persephone."

He shrugged, "Too bad."

"For you." Her voice shook from vehemence and residual tears, "I'm leaving, and I'm taking my mother with me."

He laughed, and Jo took action.

She brought forth a burst of energy, magic of her own and James' pulsed through her as she concentrated enough to make her kicking leg hit his chest.

Crowley flew backward, much longer than he should have, and Jo lunged for her mother, concentrating on making her hand whole just as she did with her leg moments before.

_'JAMES BRING ME BACK!'_ she screamed in her mind.

Just as her fingers brushed her mothers to take hold, she was yanked away, grasped by someone from behind just out of her mother's reach before her abdomen was sucked up to her chest, and she was flying though planes with an unwanted joyrider.

She was slammed back into her body, and felt her side hit the floor.

With a scream she turned to her back, feeling her body seize and writhe against the cold floor. She didn't have full control of her own physical form, and she was fighting for it.

She didn't hear James' panicked shouts and chants over her as she struggled through the battle within.

Julie had hitched a ride back with Jo's astral projection, and was now raking the insides of her mind and body with claws sharpened. Jo was learning how unseemly and violent reaper possession was.

She felt the mute reaper's thoughts, how she wanted to torture from the inside out, how she wanted to bring the soul of Joanna Harvelle back to hell, her special touch was saved for the final curtain call, but first the performance from the inside.

Jo curdled blood with another scream, then took control of her mouth.

"INSIDE ME! She's-"

Her body convulsed again, and that was all James needed to know his next move. He pressed a palm to her head and stomach, pressing forcefully, hands hot.

"Auferte creatura ab ea corpore, vade, ab anima separare!"

Jo's eyes clenched tightly as her body expelled the reaper from it and James' command.

She sucked in a bitter breath, turned to her side and vomited intensely onto the floor.

Around her she heard James shout and grunt.

Swallowing down the rest, Jo crawled over to her weapons bag, just on the chair by the window-a crash sounded from behind her and she knew James has gone down, into the armoire.

There wasn't much time left.

She grasped the bag, and opened it before she was flown across the room and hit the headboard roughly. Bouncing on the bed, she saw the glittering of the weapon she wanted under the crappy vanity desk. She had kept a death grip on the bag, and weapons of all types were now strewn over the room.

Julie had walked over, and was now gripping herself some blonde locks, dragging Jo off the bed, body connecting with thumps to the floor.

James recovered from his crash into the wooden closet and swept up the eight inch Damascus bowie knife, and sank it quickly in between Julie's eyes, his fingers brushing the bridge of her nose.

Again, Julie made no sound, but slackened her grip, which Jo used to flip around, plant her feet on the reaper's sturdy calf and push off. Painfully, she left long chucks of hair and some skin in the clutches of the reaper bitch. Jo did manage to cause Julie to lose her standing, however, and she fell backward.

Seeing her chance, Jo reached the rest of he way under the desk grabbing the shined blade in hand. Sliding on her knees Jo plunged the short sword into the reaper's heart, just as Julie had lifted a single finger to touch Jo's cheek.

She held her breath and grip on the hilt, as the light flickered a bright yellow, before the entire arm the finger was attached to slumped backward, dead.

Jo did not feel the death-touch meant for her that day, but darkly she wished she had.

Her hand fell away from the angel blade, and her body fell to the side, forehead pressed against the cool faux wood floor. Her legs were tucked underneath her body, arms stretched out slightly, framing her head. She was shaking.

James did not approach her, the body that lay between them was barrier enough, and he had heard and seen every reaction she had experienced from Hell and back. He knew that she would need some time to collect herself.

Abruptly she screamed, at first he thought she might be in pain-the astral journey from Hell could be an agonizing process, but when her curled fists began beating savagely at the floor he knew different.

This scream was one of an emotional pain, an agony of the mind.

She vaulted her body up off the floor, suddenly spry on her legs. She grasped the thing closest to her (the sheets of the bed) and jerked it off, crazed.

Letting the sheets fall over the floor she turned in a flurry and punched the mirror from the vanity. When it drew blood from her knuckles she lunged at it, gripped it for leverage and sent it toppling over, colliding with the floor.

The dresser was her next target, clawing at the knobs of the drawers with small, but strong hands. When a knob was trapped in between her fingers, she flung it from out of it's nest and soaring across the room, over the sheet less bed. The empty drawers hit the wall opposite, creating dents and cracks in the wallpaper.

James saw them fly, but did not hear them. Nor did her hear her screams and growls during the destructive acts. His ears fell silent to the harrowing emotion he saw in her eyes. She had just lost every hope she had, and gained nothing. Dean was still in Purgatory, her parents were tortured and beaten in hell, and she had failed to save anyone from it all.

So he flattened his back up against the wall under the window and watched her, ready for when her temporary insanity would come crashing down.

Soon after all the drawers were torn from the dresser, Jo ripped the framed picture which had hung above the dresser and smashed it repeatedly over the broken vanity desk. The pieces of frame clattered to the ground as she stopped to let in deep, gasping breaths through uncontrollable sobs.

The glass from the frame crunched under her boots, her hands bloody and limp, head lolled down as if she were to topple to the floor herself.

James then rushed forward and gathered her in his arms. Once her face was pressed into his chest she sank down, and he guided her gently there.

After a moment she hiccuped through breath, and tried to get out words to him.

"We-n-need-to-to-leave. Cro-wl, he-'ll."

James lifted a hand and stroked her hair, "I'll get you out of here before he comes."

"Ri-ght-now!"

She was undoubtably right. Crowley would have no trouble finding a hotel room overlooking the seedy taxi street, now that he knew the Jo he interacted with was only the projection of her form through the astral plane. It would not be hard to deduce.

"All right. Let me get your weapons." He jumped all over the room gathering her sharp blades and some guns into the original bag.

She helped some, her hand shaking so madly she dropped one of her blades before she could throw it into the bag, neatness being the last thing on their minds.

"How are we-going to get out-of here?" She trembled, voice better than before.

"I'm going to have to teleport us."

"More magic?"

He understood the broken question, "I'll have just enough energy to do it, don't worry."

Slinging the bag over her shoulder her hugged her in close, "Ready?"

She nodded just as they both heard pounding up the stairs and down into the hall-

Their door was pulled off and-

"Abire nos." He poured his energy into the whisper.

His whole body was squeezed and stretched, as if he was a towel that was receiving the action of being rung out.

A few moments later and they were in the from seat of the car, just as he had visualized. He was in the driver's seat, Jo gasping again in the passengers. The two promptly stuck their heads out of the windows and threw up their insides.

Jo was heaving up nothing, having expelled everything already in the hotel room which she hoped the demons were now sliding over. After the heaves gave in she turned to see James' nose bleeding from both nostrils, and body shaking.

She ripped off her shirt revealing a sports bra and held the fabric, swaddled to his gushing nose. The spell had cost too much energy.

"Are you all right?" her voice was incredibly weak, body sweaty and clammy.

He nodded, took the shirt for himself and began to wipe it away, "Teleportation and Astral Projection in the same day, I'll have to put this on my witch resume."

She did not smile, but her brown eyes game some fraction of a lighter shade, and he was pacified.

Starting the car, he buckled and drove off, leaving the hotel in the orange glow of sunset.

Jo curled into her car's seat, eyes dry, body aching and soul comatose. The glass of the car door window was not protecting her dirtied hair from being whipped and knotted in the wind. Much like how there would never be someone there to protect her life from being tangled and beaten back to almost nothing.

This entire mission had been pointless; here she did not have Dean, here she did not have her Mother, here there was no God to help her.

Where would she go from here?


End file.
